


Act of Contrition

by Rogue_in_Shadows



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Drinking, Hardcore, Improper use of butter, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue_in_Shadows/pseuds/Rogue_in_Shadows
Summary: Shinra and Avalanche. A tryst of sin. But damn, does it feel good.Takes place at some point during On the Way to a Smile content, after the main title but before Advent Children.An alternate source of power is discovered, and Barret wants to get it up and running. But he has misgivings about Reeve’s unnamed benefactor. Drinking ensues, and things get...awkward.
Relationships: Reeve Tuesti/Barret Wallace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Act of Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> I don't post stories often. But when I do, they're 12,400 words long.

It wasn’t often the two of them got together, alone, but when they did, the most notable thing about the experience was the tangible fog of regret that hovered between them, on their breath, their gazes, their very words. It was always awkward. Not in the sense that the two didn’t get along, but there were always the ghosts of old animosities, long buried, never quite forgotten. 

Reeve didn’t spend as much time as he would like at his modest home in Kalm —truth be told, his WRO duties dominated his every waking moment. The parochial village reminded him of the farm on which he’d spent his childhood. If he could, he would have stayed in Kalm for the rest of his days, relaxing. But he knew such a thing was neither practical nor possible. As it was, when he did have a few days to decompress, he used them for much needed rest and catching up with the others---and it seemed Barret had some promising news for him. 

Reeve had given his bodyguards the evening off. Who needed them, with someone like Barret around? Besides, how often did he have a chance to visit his allies from the Jenova War in private? It was Reeve who cooked. He’d shed his formal robe in favor of a more casual look (for him, anyway): plain white button-down shirt and blue slacks. Currently he set a plate before the larger man and set to pouring his favored drink: whiskey on ice. 

“So, what have you been up to, my friend?” 

“Killin’,” Barret snorted, accepting the whiskey and inhaling a quaff. “Seems all I ever do, like everything I touch falls to shit.” 

“Come, now, it can’t be all that bad.” offered Reeve, filling his own glass with red wine. 

“You bet your ass it can.” Barret slammed his glass, almost empty, back onto the table. “But then what’d you know about it? Seems things always go smooth for you. Don’t see you havin’ no trouble, runnin’ things like you do.” 

“Ha,” the Commissioner chuckled, topping Barret’s drink before seating himself. “If only you knew.” 

“As for me, seems nothin’ I do lets me get away from it.” 

“It?” Reeve cast him a glance from over his wine. 

“My past. My sin.” 

“Ah.” The engineer paused, a thoughtful, faraway look shadowing his features. “Then that makes two of us.” He swallowed a long, slow drink. Without further words both men tucked into the meal Reeve had prepared—pan-seared steak and sautéed vegetables with bread and butter. It was not an easy meal to come by since Meteorfall. Most crops had withered, livestock perished, and such resources were difficult to procure, even for one with a seemingly endless (and anonymous) bank account keeping his coffers stocked. But occasionally, Reeve made a point to indulge when his friends were involved. In silence they dined, an awkward heaviness hanging over the practical kitchen. Reeve had chosen the kitchen over the formal dining room for intimacy and familiarity. Plus, this placed them closer to the food, and he had no doubt Barret would be raring for seconds. The man could eat his weight in food. 

“It ever still bother you?” Barret spoke up after some time. “All you did for Shinra?” 

“My every waking moment,” said Reeve, without missing a beat. “And in my dreams.” 

“Hmm. Mebbe you just better at hidin’ it than me.” Reeve laughed again, a pleasant peal that might have lightened the mood. 

“Well, you have always worn your emotions on your sleeve. Or shall I say gun-arm,” the engineer continued, buttering a slice of bread. “Weren’t you considering having that replaced? Perhaps with something more, er…practical?” 

“Yeah. Been thinkin’ ‘bout it. Have one built already. Just not sure when I’ll be ready to take that plunge. You know how it is.” 

“Oh, don’t I ever,” Reeve returned, bitterly. He knew all too well how hard it was to let go of a part of one’s self. For Reeve, that part had been Shinra, and he’d straddled that line far longer than he should have. When something has consumed one’s being so long it essentially defines him, how does one let that go? “You’ve got to ‘take that plunge’ when you’re ready, and only then. You’ll know when it’s time. Who knows, you may wake up tomorrow and decide ‘today’s the day.’” 

Barret grunted. “I might. Then I might just drag my feet until the next thing I know Marlene’s all grown up.” Even now, years later, it was strange for him to be dining with a man once connected to everything he’d hated—including the very reactors that bled the planet dry, invoked her ire. And try as he might, he still had a hard time separating Reeve from Shinra; even now he saw Shinra in his face, heard it in his voice. And the worst part was, he liked the man. Intolerable as Reeve was with his secrets, his toys and damned eccentricities, Barret had genuinely grown fond of him. It had taken some time for him to come around, but he had increasingly been forced to admit, even to himself, that a man who’d spent years a Shinra lackey just might be a good man capable of redeeming himself. After all, he had helped them greatly from the inside during the Jenova War. He was smart, pragmatic, and resourceful as hell. Shady as fuck, too. But, much like Barret, he carried a strong sense of responsibility, a need to absolve himself of his own, crushing guilt for the damage he’d helped bring upon the planet and her people—and the lives lost as a result. And in that way, they were, strangely enough, very much alike. 

Barret wanted to kill him sometimes. 

Truly they were the opposite sides of two different coins. Reeve had merely been a flawed cog within a corrupt machine, fighting to affect positive outcomes even while aiding and abetting the very evil under which he operated. Drowning in complicity, he’d ignored the growing rust around him and held fast to his master, the almighty Shinra. Barret, on the other hand, had been the depraved side of a good idea, unleashing his rage under guise of ‘saving the planet’; his master was his anger, wreaking more destruction than good in his vengeful crusade. Reeve’s cowardice and complacency were a foil to Barret’s resentment and the destruction it had wrought. 

And together, they’d broken the world. 

Yeah. They’d both fucked up plenty. And now both were paying for it through the guilt they bore. 

At length Barret pushed his plate aside. “Hoo! Ain’t gonna lie. That’s some fine eatin’.” 

“There’s plenty more. Help yourself.” 

“Heh, might jus’ take you up on that, if I still got room. Where you learn to whip up some grub like that?” 

“My mother,” Reeve said, simply, and Barret hummed and went silent. Reeve’s mother had been one of many casualties from Meteorfall and the Planet’s reprisal. But the other man’s faint smile hinted at fond memories, likely of circling his mother’s apron strings as she worked the kitchen. 

_Hmmph. Mama’s boy._

Reeve had lost much as well, even if Shinra had brought it on. 

“You plan on telling me what this is about?” 

Barret paused at the Commissioner’s question and swallowed another drink. “Got a call from Cid and Shera. They’ve been thinkin’ too, on how we’re gonna get things runnin’ again. And they been workin’ on it.” “Another source of power,” guessed Reeve. Barret nodded. “Hmm. And we might jus’ have found it; there’s an oil field, near Rocket Town. Land itself’s dried up, monsters all over the damn place. Equipment’s shot to hell, too. But with a little help, we could get it fixed up, maybe…” 

“I could arrange for that help, if that’s what you’re getting at. With some proper funding, I have no doubt they could have it up and running in no time.” 

“Yeah, well,” Now Barret looked at Reeve hard. “That depends.” 

“On?” 

“On where the money’s comin’ from.” 

A silence fell over them. Coolly Reeve sipped at his wine. “Come now, I hardly see how that matters. At a time like this, why quibble?” There was that damned evasiveness again. 

Barret grumbled. “And still you won’t say. What are you hidin’, Reeve?” 

“And here I thought we were past this…” the Commissioner returned to his plate. 

“Dodgin’ the question. Sneakin’ around, even now. You loot Shinra’s coffers or somethin’?” 

Reeve laughed, unreadable still. “Let’s just say I’ve got connections.” 

“And I want to know what those connections are. More plainly, who.” As the larger man fixed a glare on him, Reeve squirmed, sensing the other’s temper simmering just under the surface of his cool exterior. 

Clearing his throat, Reeve rose and went to refill their drinks. “And I will be happy to reveal it, after dinner, perhaps. Seconds?” 

Glare softening, Barret nodded. 

Crisis averted, for now. 

Minutes later, Reeve was washing dishes with Barret awkwardly helping dry, a towel draped over his gun-hand. The Commissioner himself had donned a silly apron, all white and pink with little flowers, ruffles adorning the edges. The larger man snorted, wondering what Reeve’s colleagues at Shinra would have thought, seeing their head architect and engineer looking like someone’s grandma. Speaking of Shinra… 

“Is it Rufus?” Barret suddenly posed. Reeve paused and lowered the plate he was scrubbing. 

“Come again?" 

“He the one laundering your dough? Cause if that’s the connection you’re talkin’ bout, I don’t want none of that kind of help.” 

“Barret…” Reeve sighed. Barret had cooled down since their encounters during the Jenova Crisis. But he had still never forgiven Rufus—and Reeve doubted Barret would ever come around to trusting the Shinra heir. 

“Goddamn it, Reeve. Come out with it straight!” Barret tossed the plate he was drying onto the countertop with a clank. “All this sneaking around ain’t helping. Lots of folk still don’t trust you, you know.” 

“And they’re well within their right…” 

“But I do, at least now. Took me awhile. Hadda hard time forgivin’ you for Marlene…”

“And I have offered myself to your retaliation. That is well within your right. The offer still stands.” Barret stared long at him. If any of them had a proclivity for self-flagellation, it was Reeve. And Barret would be a liar if he hadn’t thought of it. He almost felt like taking his smug ass up on it now, but as always, he brushed the thought aside. 

“Mmm. Wouldn’t do no good nohow. You kept her safe, an’ that’s all that matters. But why won’t you come clean?” 

“It isn’t important.” He just continued washing, his back to the other man. 

“So it is Rufus.” Briefly Reeve halted his obsessive scrubbing. Though Barret couldn’t see his expression, he sensed a sigh from the other man. 

“My contact has…turned over a new leaf.” He said, simply, resuming his activities. 

“You really believe that?” Reeve said nothing; he just continued scrubbing that same damn plate. Barret snorted. “Still naïve as all hell. Gonna get you killed, you know.” 

“If it does, so be it.”

“Hmmph. Nothin’ but a damn fool…” Barret grumbled, and left it at that.

...

“Thank you for helping with the dishes,” Reeve poured his guest another drink. “I could’ve handled it myself. You are a guest, after all.” 

“And you still a Shinra punk, seems like,” Barret swallowed his whiskey on the rocks in almost one swig. 

“I can’t change your mind,” Reeve sat calmly, sipping his fourth glass of wine. Barret grumbled something low in his throat. “Look, I…” Reeve hesitated. “You and I have our differences. I helped make this mess; I accept that without question. And like you, I am doing what I can to make amends. Even if it means placing my trust in the hands of…certain individuals… who others may not trust. No matter what I do, I know it will never be enough, but…I won’t begrudge any resentment you or anyone else still holds toward me, or Shinra. I fully accept responsibility for my actions—and inaction, as it were. The question is, have you?” Barret glared, golden-hazel eyes piercing the man across the table. “You know we aren’t so different.” Reeve went on. “I know you have your demons, Barret. I know you battle with yourself, your failings, the things you’ve done. And I know you want a better life for your daughter…” 

Barret snorted. “You really think that’s gonna work?” 

“I just know you don’t want to go on leaving her with Tifa all the time. You’d rather spend time with her, and she you. If you find your breakthrough—if this oil enterprise works, it might help you achieve that. And maybe, just maybe, after you’ve settled your demons, you can have that arm replaced once and for all. And I’d like to help you accomplish that. Seems you want that, too.” 

“And it seems you know an awful lot about me.”

“I have my resources…” Reeve calmly replied.

“And what’s the catch if you help me?” Barret pressed.

Reeve laughed. “No catch. Simply a favor for a friend—one from which we both benefit.”

“And who will we both owe for that?” 

“Why, no one.”

“Who’s offerin’ these resources?” 

“You can’t expect me to reveal all the tricks up my sleeve.” 

Tricks. All this time and he was still up to them. All the secrets he kept to himself, and yet he still somehow managed to know everything about everyone else. And now he was using it to manipulate him and divert the subject. Barret rose in frustration, towering over the seated Commissioner as he fought to keep his anger at bay. Reeve was still surprised at how fast the hulking man could move. 

“You haven’t changed, have you?”

“Barret—I am offering you help. Funding? Manpower? Name it. Or…are you after something else?”

“Don’t change the damn subject. You pretty much admitted where the money’s comin’ from. You expect me to just be fine with it?”

“I would hope you would look beyond such things, and accept that the identity of this individual doesn’t matter in the larger picture. You wish to help rebuild the planet. We have that chance, Barret.”

All at once Barret was upon him; the former coal miner grabbed him by the collar, hauling him to his feet with one massive hand. 

“What is it you’re up to? Why can’t you just come out with it?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant to the discussion at hand…” Reeve began, calmly. The larger man had him by one arm, alcohol swirling in both men’s veins. He showed no outward sign of it, but Reeve feared for a moment he might suffer physical harm. 

“Tell me just what it is you’ve been up to. Who are you workin’ with under the table?”

“Someone who owes a debt to the planet. Please, Barret, just trust me on this…” 

“An’ yet you can’t trust us enough to keep us in the loop. Who is it, Tuesti?” 

“Keeping everyone ‘in the loop’ has the potential to do more harm than good.” Reeve’s tone remained even, conciliatory. “Please understand, Barret. I’ve offered assistance. Will you not accept?” 

Barret sighed. They were getting nowhere, and Reeve wouldn’t budge. Here he was, evading the question, just like he always did. Always keeping his damned secrets.

“I don’t want Shinra’s dirty money.” 

Reeve inwardly winced. Barret was making this harder than he’d anticipated. “Men, then? To assist with your monster problem?” 

“What, from the WRO? Those pansies would piss all over themselves. No thanks.” 

“They work hard, and for little in return. I’ll not have you insult them.” 

“And yet here you sit raking it in.” 

“E-excuse me…?”

“It’s true, then, ain’t it? Why’s it so hard to answer a simple question?”

“You’ve already guessed, clearly. Why are we going in circles like this?”

“Damn. I knew it! Still under Rufus Shinra’s thumb.”

“That’s not exactly the arrangement…”

“What is the arrangement?” 

“What does it matter? I’m hardly concerned with it, so long as he keeps writing the checks…”

“An’ how ‘bout when he wants his return? What happens when that asshole expects you to pay his little investment forward, huh?”

“It’s hardly little…”

“God damn! You’re a bigger fool than I thought.” 

Reeve flushed, a lump swelling in his throat. Such criticism normally didn’t fluster him: it wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to it. After all, Barret was hardly the first to chide him over his unnamed benefactor, and leading an organization such as the WRO invited criticism from all fronts. But the power of the man before him, paired with the almost paternal way he stared him down, made him feel like a child caught in a lie. 

Then again, it could have just been the haze of the wine. 

“You think I’m gonna let Rufus help me?” Barret went on. “Just so he can have leverage over Marlene and me?” 

“That’s not…” 

“’Cause that’s what’s gonna happen. Bad enough you put yourself back in that position, after everything that happened. You expect me to put us in his debt, too?”

“You came for something, Barret. What is it you’d like of me?”

“Maybe I wanna smash your face in.” 

“By all means, have at it, if it will make you feel better. I won’t stop you.” Glaring, Barret flung his arms up with an exasperated sigh.

“See, dammit, that ain’t what you’re supposed to say…” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Reeve asked, calmly. “You wish me to beg? Plead forgiveness? Is that what you want from me? Because I’ll have you know I’m not above it.” 

Barret held him hard; despite the Commissioner’s cool demeanor he saw the pulse thrumming in his throat. “Yeah I know that much. All those years sucking up to the President.” 

“Barret, please!” 

“Sounds like you’re used to begging.”

“Barret!” 

The larger man hesitated, coming to his senses. Again, his anger was getting the better of him, and he wondered where it came from. _Just when I’ve promised myself this wouldn’t happen any more…_ ; He hadn’t felt animosity toward Reeve in some time—hell, since the end of the Jenova War, really. What’s more, he had no right to be angry with him; his own hands bore their share of blood, to be sure, and just as quickly as it came, his anger rinsed away.

And yet, his blood now surged with something entirely different—almost a _hunger_.

_What the hell?_

It could have been the booze, but the smaller man squirming in his grip with that glazy, badly-concealed fear triggered a spark of excitement deep in Barret’s gut. There was something about having the normally collected engineer flustered and shaken, and his pants felt a little tighter all the sudden. Having this man, this Shinra exec (and a handsome one, too) in his grasp and fully at his mercy was a rush, and something in his loins stirred.

“What is it you want, Tuesti? You wanna be roughed up, punished? Hopin’ I’ll do the honors? ‘Cause it sure sounds like it. Sounds like you’re practically invitin’ it.”

Woozy, Reeve felt himself falter, the grip at his arm almost painful. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ He swallowed. He wasn’t used to feeling this powerless, and damned if he wasn’t a little turned on by it. _God help me_ … Deflating, he clawed helplessly at Barret’s flexed and powerful biceps, eyes fixed to that gun-arm. “Barret, I….” his heart was thrumming, and a feeling of defeat robbed him of words, as if he were as unsure what he wanted as Barret himself. 

Barret considered the smaller man; here was the oh-so-unflappable WRO leader, rattled and stumbling over his own words, and somehow that reality triggered something dark, primal and lusty deep in his heart. Barret gripped his wrist harder, only to feel Reeve cling closer, and there it was: an undeniable hardness in the architect’s pants, as if in response to the rough handling, now apparent against Barret’s thigh. 

Well, whaddaya know…. 

“I…” Reeve swallowed again. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I thought this conversation was about you. What is it you want, Barret?” Drunken eyes danced over the gunner’s stern features, and Reeve groaned and pressed against him. Barret pressed back, his own thickening sex responding at the blood thrumming through the engineer’s slim wrist...

_Oh yeah; it was the booze._

“If you truly must do this…” Reeve faltered, when Barret didn’t answer him. “…if this is what it takes to set our differences aside once and for all, then do what you must.” The Commissioner was steady, but an ill-hidden anxiety pulsed through his every word. Barret held his gaze for a long moment, and regret flooded over him. Reeve was afraid of him, like everyone else. Even after all they had been through, even now, Reeve feared him, feared he truly intended to unleash his hatred of Shinra in the form of a pounding. He was fighting to hide it—that was just his way, but there it was, wavering in his chestnut eyes, as if he truly expected Barret to lay into him, rough him up proper for sins of the past. And he was prepared to accept it. 

The gunner softened, eased his grip. “You really think that’s what I want? To beat the shit outta you right here?” Barret’s voice came out husky, a sound that Reeve hadn’t heard before, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear it was—something… Lust? No, surely not. As the blood and sensation flowed back to his arm, he merely shook his head in reply. Barrett snorted. “Nah. Like you said, we past that.” No, Barret had something else in mind—something else entirely. “Do wanna fuck you up, though. Jus’ not in the way you think.” Reeve gulped and staggered, breath shallow, eyes lidded. The larger man steadied him, and without understanding his own actions Barret wrenched him closer and crushed a forceful kiss to the Commissioner’s parted lips.

Reeve’s eyes widened with alarm as the larger man swallowed his yelp of surprise. For several seconds they locked. The architect squirmed from shock or protest before it too melted away and he acquiesced, falling limp like a soft noodle. And then there they were, two sinners tangled in a moment of passion born more of self-loathing than mutual animosity. 

At length Barret wrenched his head back and gazed at the other, neither man entirely sure what had just happened. Beneath his trimmed beard Reeve was blushing, panting. When Barret’s erection nudged his hip, he twitched, full pink lips parting with a gasp.

“I take it this meeting is no longer a professional endeavor,” he breathed with a wry smirk. 

_That goddamned smirk._

“Damn straight, it ain’t,” Barrett confirmed, laying another kiss on him before the Commissioner could squeak another word. With his working hand he took Reeve’s and gently placed it over the outline of his thickening cock. Reeve hesitated, his fingers gingerly dancing over the tight bulge. 

“G-god…” he whispered, letting his fingers explore its length and girth. 

“You want this?” Barret had to ask, before things went too far. Before things got weird. Hell, too late for that. Breath quickening, Reeve swallowed and offered the faintest of nods. “Hmmph,” Barret huffed with a smirk. “Then get on your knees and beg for it.” 

He was surprised when Reeve actually did it. 

The Commissioner hesitated only for a second before staggering back and dropping to a defeated slump, kneeling right there on the hard kitchen floor.

“Yeah, there you go.” Barret grunted his approval as his golden-hazel eyes rolled over the smaller man knelt at his feet. “There’s a pretty sight. I could get used to this.” The apron was a fitting touch, too, a hilariously domestic element to an already awkward situation. 

“Look, Barret…” Reeve began, swallowing. “I’ve said it a hundred times. I’m sorry for what happened in Corel. I’m sorry about your wife, friends. I’m sorry I used Marlene. I just…I wanted to help you…” 

“Bullshit,” Barret gruffly returned. “You wanted to help yourself.” 

The WRO leader bowed his head, his confession nearly a whisper: “It was my only chance.” 

Barret considered the man slumped there. Here was for all intents and purposes the most powerful man in the world, contrite, almost pitiful, on his knees before him and apologizing. 

All while wearing a goddamn apron…

But Reeve was right: he had said sorry, a hundred times or more. Here was a man of many sins, Barret knew. Maybe more than any of them. Barret also knew why he had used Marlene as his hostage back then, oh, he knew perfectly why, and in a way, he understood. An act of desperation by a man worn down by his own guilt and complicity, a last-ditch effort to redeem himself. Yeah, that’s all it was; a man trapped in an evil spiral, and lacking the ability, the courage to simply walk away, he sank to the lowest rung with his ultimate sin: holding a toddler for ransom to buy himself a chance to help save a world he’d helped break. Marlene had been Reeve’s redemption insurance for his cowardice—redemption he felt he could only find working alongside the very terrorists who’s blown up his own facilities. The very assholes who escalated the conflict until Shinra made the ultimate choice to drop a full section of the upper plate upon countless innocents. Much as he hated him for it, he couldn’t blame him. Hell, he couldn’t even say he wouldn’t have done the same. Was Barret himself truly better? How long had he used Marlene as an excuse for his own, violent actions? 

Goddamn, but weren’t they both screwed up. God knew if the Planet had any redemption left for them, or if they were both bound straight for Hell.

But Reeve had also expressed profuse regret to him and everyone else Shinra had fucked over, including the Planet itself. He had instated reparations and vowed to make things right again, idealistic a hope as it was. Reeve Tuesti had taken so much blame on his shoulders that Barret was honestly surprised the man could still walk upright. But something about hearing him say it on his knees made Barret’s cock twitch in its confines, and he waved the apology off with an outstretched hand.

“Hey. ’S’alright. We were all selfish, in the end. Just like I was never concerned for the Planet, in the beginning. Just revenge. It took you to make me see that, remember? But that’s neither here nor there. That’s not what this is about, nohow.” Barret strode near and withdrew his cock from his pants, the other man’s drunken eyes blearily following, fixed on his intimidating size. The gunman lifted his human hand, stroked Reeve’s hair, his cheek. “The question now is, what are we gonna do about this?” 

Reeve nuzzled his hand, at once granting and requesting permission. “Well,” Barret said. “Let’s see what you got.” 

Drawing an uncertain breath, Reeve swallowed and leaned in on his knees. Now face-to-face with the thick, dark shaft of flesh, the engineer took a moment to appraise it, and to be honest—it was intimidating. Intimidating, perhaps, but a challenge he was prepared to accept. Reeve leaned closer and his tongue slipped gingerly forward, stealing a preliminary taste.

“Mmmm…that’s it….” The larger man purred an encouragement. Timidly Reeve settled in, tongue tracing the girth, the veins, his fogged mind questioning what the hell he was doing. A groan above him sparked a tingle in his belly that spiraled down to his loins, and at last his soft lips embraced the dark mushroom head. Barret hummed his approval as slowly, gradually the Commissioner worked his length inside, cheeks hollowing as he took him further.

“Not bad, pencil-pusher,” Barret husked, pressing forward with his hips. Damn, but that silver tongue felt even better on his cock than he’d imagined. “Betchoo spent a lotta time on your knees at Shinra. You ever blow the President?” Furiously Reeve blushed, nearly gagging at the thought. Barret tangled a hand in his hair and painfully tugged, forcing him to swallow him deeper. After a brief struggle and gurgle, Reeve complied, opening his throat and curling his lips over his teeth. Velvet. Yeah, that warm, wet cavern was like velvet, and even the tickle of his mustache and beard was soft, delicate. 

Barret staggered before reaching down to grasp one of those silly apron straps. “Off,” came the simple command. 

Hardly pausing in his task, Reeve wriggled out of the outer garment, shrugging it from his shoulders. Next came the blouse. Barrett tugged swiftly at the collar and cleanly ripped the shirt down the middle. Buttons popped and bounced to skitter across the kitchen floor. Reeve groaned a complaint but never stopped, his head bobbing smoothly up and down Barret’s massive length, his throat tight, hesitant to open fully and accommodate the larger man. Barret’s eyes rolled over the Commissioner, now exposed, his cock down his throat. His toned chest, lightly dusted with dark hair at the pecs suggested he somehow managed to keep trim and fit, but just enough, even with all the world on his shoulders. There was a vulnerability about him that tugged at a raw primal need in the other man, and Barret reached down and tilted his chin to direct his eyes upward.

“Look at me.” Reeve complied, warm chestnut gaze meeting Barret’s. The larger man’s big hand crept along back to his crown, compelling him forward. For just a moment Reeve gagged and resisted, but at a little further encouragement he managed to settle in, opening to accommodate. “Yeah, that’s right. Damn, you good at this.” Slowly Reeve developed a rhythm, lips wide around Barret’s girth as he swallowed him down to the hilt. Reflexively his throat contracted and spasmed as the entire length vanished inside, the bulbous cockhead nudging at his tonsils. A froth of drool and precum leaked from the corners of his stretched lips, his eyes always locked on Barret’s expression. 

“Goddamn…” the larger man growled his praise. “Keep it up…there you go, just like that. Good…good boy…” Reeve whimpered, relaxing inner muscles as fingers curled in his hair, tangling in brunette locks until his scalp sang from the sting. Holding him still, Barret began to rock, a steadily more vigorous fucking of his mouth and throat. Reeve groaned on Barret’s cock, the vibration rolling upward and sending the larger man into a deeper, frenzied pitch as Reeve struggled to accommodate ever-more aggressive demands. Tears sprang from his eyes, cutting streams down flushed and bearded cheeks. And still the gunner’s girth forced him open, using his throat as a tight sheathe and sending his thoughts into a hazy swirl. Barret watched him intently, there on his knees, naked from the waist up and accepting his sex, golden-brown eyes locked with Barret’s in acknowledgement of the shameless exchange. 

“Mmm, yeah. That’s the way, Tuesti. Swallow it down.” Struggling to draw precious air through his nose, the engineer willed his throat wide, his gags and chokes obscenely sputtering around Barret’s cock as spit and precum leaked down his chin, his subservient gaze never leaving that of the man above him. Barret felt every muscle tighten and knew he was dangerously close. Hazily the Commissioner jolted back to reality when his head was roughly snapped backward, the other man’s length abruptly sliding from his lips with a stream of drool. 

“Open,” a sharp command sliced through his drunken fog. “Tongue out.” Blindly Reeve obeyed, gaze never leaving Barret’s as warm ropes spattered his lips, coated his waiting tongue. At length Barrett released him and stood back, breathing huskily. Dizzy, Reeve slumped, milky release pooled on his tongue. The gunman loomed above him, surveying the damage. The former Shinra Director knelt before him, half naked, seed spattered in his beard, glistening there on his tongue.

“Hmm. Pretty.” Barret nodded. “You know what to do.” Obediently Reeve drew his tongue inside and swallowed. The salty release oozed downward, coating his raw and battered throat. With that, he simply knelt, panting through pink, swollen lips and sore jaw. 

In those moments as they recovered and registered what had just happened, a familiar awkwardness threatened to creep in. All Reeve could do was wonder what the others would think, what his WRO recruits would say if they saw him like this, and why he hadn’t been more damned careful. But Barret wasn’t through with the Commissioner, yet. 

“Damn,” Barret sighed. “You’re good.” 

“Yes, well…” Reeve awkwardly stretched his strained jaw and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “I’ve been told I’m full of surprises. I should probably get cleaned up before…” 

“Nah. You stay right where you are. I jus’ wanna look at you.” 

Reeve blushed. “I suppose I can indulge you, if that is your wish. I guess I should be flattered, if you’re enjoying the view.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Barret kicked a kitchen chair towards him and sat, his eyes predatorilly inspecting the half-naked man knelt before him. “Look at you, all hot and bothered. Let’s see you touch that cock of yours.”

“P-pardon?” Reeve faltered, meeting his gaze with renewed apprehension. 

“You know damn well what I mean,” Barret chided with a nod. “You’ve been givin’ orders for a while, now, but I know you still remember how to take ‘em. Go ahead. Lemme see you get yourself off. I’ll bet you’re achin’ for it. We both know you’re just gonna rub one out in the shower, anyway. I’d rather watch you do it right here.” 

Reeve felt himself pale momentarily, replaced by a terrible flush that heated his cheeks. Surely Barret wasn’t serious…but no, the look on the gunman’s face and the way he was parked before him made his expectation abundantly clear. Hesitating, he reached a trembling hand towards the zipper on his slacks. When Barret’s firm nod left no room for argument, he drew his fly downward, blushing furiously as he inelegantly exposed his own stiff erection. 

“Mmm-hmm. Just what I thought,” Barret half growled, half-chuckled. “C’mon, then. Let’s see you work that pretty dick o’ yours.” 

“I will admit, this is hardly what I expected when I learned you were paying me a visit.” 

“I’m full of surprises, myself. Let’s see how Mister Surveillance likes being watched.” 

“I suppose there’s no room for negotiation?” He didn’t know why, but the thought of masturbating and being intently _observed_ while doing it—there was an impropriety about it all that made the Commissioner balk. Yet along with the horror came a teasing thrill, one that sent flutters through his stomach and straight to his swollen sex. 

“You just got done sucking my dick,” Barret rudely reminded him. “You really gonna get shy on me now?” 

“Duly noted,” Reeve sighed, his blush deepening, even as a faltering hand reached downward to curl around his own, aching length. _I can’t believe I’m doing this_. Closing his eyes and clearing his mind, he gently squeezed himself and worked up a slow, steady stroke. 

“Uh-uh,” chided Barret. “Eyes on me.” 

“God…Barret…” _Damn you._ With a humiliated groan, Reeve complied, opening his eyes and meeting the larger man’s gaze.

Satisfied, Barret grunted and leaned back, booted feet crossed in front of him as he relaxed to watch the show. Sensing the other man expected a performance, a rebellious drive in Reeve determined to give him just that. His fingers curled around the base of his cock and massaged, working back up and down again until he found a slow but steady rhythm. Hoping to emerge with a sliver of his dignity intact, Reeve shuddered, mortified at a wanton moan that escaped his throat. 

Barret sat, holding his gaze, and the haze that clouded his eyes left no doubt that he was enjoying the display. 

“Mmm,” the gunman hummed an approval. “You sure pretty when you moan.” 

“Pretty? I’ll—ah—have to remember that one.” Emboldened, Reeve locked his gaze with glassy eyes and doubled his efforts, his fist tightening, pumping faster, even as his blood surged hot with shame. 

“Yeah, work it.” Barret’s commands foggily registered, and he obeyed, his wrist aching, cock throbbing from the friction and need for release. Another groan purred from his throat, his eyes lidding as his hips shifted and rolled into his own, rocking strokes. Through his own dizzying lust he barely perceived Barret, now fisting his own growing erection. The gunman watched intently, his breath coming hard as the kneeling ex-Shinra manager moaned and writhed at his command. His own cock stiffened in response, and before long he had joined Reeve, stroking in time to the Director’s naughty performance. 

Their eyes locked; Reeve’s strokes were coming erratically, more desperate even as his face flushed with heat. He was panting, his hips lunging upward into his own trembling hand as his lust spiraled further toward the point of no return. Barret watched him with a blend of amusement and arousal, but he could tell by the way he trembled, the frantic nature of his movement, the intensified pitch of his moans that Reeve was close.

“Enough.” Barret ordered suddenly. 

Dizzily Reeve paused and cast him a questioning look. “H-huh?” 

“Don’t cum.” 

“Wha--?”

“Don’t cum. Save it.”

“B-Barret---I don’t know if…” 

The larger man stood and closed the distance between them and lunged down, causing Reeve to instinctively recoil as the other hauled him brusquely to his feet…and kissed him fiercely, almost crushing him in his massive embrace. 

When he let him go, Reeve was panting for breath, dazed and trembling. Barret steadied the other man, looked him up and down with something between desire, amusement and tenderness.

“Step outta those shoes, those pants,” he directed.

“D-don’t these kinds of games typically involve losing a round of cards first?” Reeve quipped, his cocky charm still intact, at least. 

“This a game to you, Tuesti? Think I’m playin’ around?” The Commissioner faltered, again sensing hostility, as if Barret thought he were mocking him. That tended to happen, others accusing him of taking things less seriously than he should. A man such as he needed some levity, now and then. But right now, the last thing he wanted to see resurface was Barret’s anger. Then again, Barret could have been screwing with him. It was hard to tell sometimes. 

“Of course not, Barret. I’m hardly foolish enough to make that mistake. Especially judging by your, er, _girth_.” 

A little flattery never hurt, either. 

“Haha. That’s what I thought.” Barret laughed, a genuine sound as he gave him a rough but friendly clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him over. “Then what’re you waitin’ for?” Shakily Reeve obeyed, toeing out of his shoes and managing to kick his pants aside without falling over on his face. Another blush creeped over him as he realized his still-stiff dick was now proudly free—a loose end Barret no doubt planned to address. And he shuddered with excitement and dread as his own mind conjured several ways Barret might address it. No sooner was he fully naked did Barret seize him and roughly dragged him over to the kitchen table, spinning him round to face it. 

“Bend over." 

Ah. Worst-case scenario. 

“Aren’t we rushing this, somewhat? Perhaps another dinner might be appropriate before we… _oof!”_ A large hand planted between his shoulders and slammed him hard, face down against the wooden surface. Before he could speak, that heavy gun-arm shoved his face to the table, and he felt Barret lurking behind him before a large human hand stroked over his lower back and ass. The hand worked its way downward, inspecting the pale halves of his buttocks, caressing and pinching and making him twitch. The hand left his butt for just a moment before a loud and unexpected _crack_ shattered the silence and a sharp pain burst across his left cheek. Reeve yelped, jolted, but that gun arm held him in place as the human arm delivered another firm swat for good measure.

“Ahh!” the Commissioner hissed. “A bit of roleplay, perhaps? Never would have taken you for the type.” 

“Still thinkin’ about games,” Barret chuckled. “How old are you, again?” _Smack!_ Reeve gasped, squirming at a third mighty swat. Without warning, and before the sting could fade, meaty fingers made contact with sore flesh and spread him open, exposing his cleft to the cool air. He was about to utter something, a question, when he felt Barret lean down close, and then the sensation of hot breath ghosted over his sensitive bud. 

“Ghh--B-Barret!” his exclamation melted into a moan when first rough-whiskered lips and then a hot, wet tongue dragged up his crevasse. He wriggled and jerked, held down firm by that heavy gun-arm. “Barret, what are you…?” Soon enough there came another sensation, as the smooth velvety muscle swirled around his tightly puckered entrance. “Ugh, Barret, you…” his words were swallowed in a gasp as the tongue prodded, poked, and wriggled inside. “G-God!” Reeve shuddered and collapsed, trembling as the larger man commenced a thorough tongue-fucking. 

Barret would have chuckled were his mouth not preoccupied. 

A moment of blurred clarity came over Reeve as the Avalanche leader’s cannon arm pinned him at the small of his back and Barret’s large hand held him spread for his slick, probing tongue. And once more, a furious heat bloomed in his cheeks as he wondered how he’d found himself bent over his own table with this huge man’s tongue up his ass. Such an intimate act, so vulgar at once, and God, his thoughts just about short-circuited again before that wet, persistent muscle slithered further inside, snapping him back to full awareness. Rough whiskers chafed at his sensitive inner flesh, Barret’s tongue wriggling ever deeper, tasting, exploring.

Reeve gurgled and squirmed beneath the larger man’s ministrations, his skin hot with shame and lust. And Barret sensed it, growling low and clutching one firm cheek tight, opening him further, only to be rewarded with a long, shameful moan. It seemed for a moment Reeve sought to wriggle away, and his cannon-arm pressed firmly, keeping him subdued and forcing him to accept the new invasion. Just having this smug bastard bent and writhing beneath him, stripped, exposed and trembling with desire and shame was something to be savored, enjoyed. The tight pucker squeezed and fluttered, and all Barret could think was how good it would feel massaging his dick. But not before he’d tormented him just a little longer.

Reeve blazed with embarrassment, his eyes glazing as he surrendered to the combined pleasure, intimacy and indignity of it all. He collapsed again, his body yielding as Barret prodded his innards, his own stiff cock trapped against the table. His sensitive nipples, drawn tight and tingling, brushed almost painfully against the tabletop’s cool surface. With the velvet wetness of Barret’s tongue probing his most private zone, he felt himself gasping and quivering as the slick, warm invader swept and poked at his exposed pucker. 

It wasn’t long before the Commissioner’s moans started to sound suspiciously like pleas, a stream of drool pooling on the table’s surface beneath his flushed cheek. His own swollen dick throbbed, trapped at the table’s edge. In vain he sought to rock into it, seeking relief, but Barret’s greater strength held him still. Low moans climbed in pitch as Reeve desperately tried to move, and it was then that Barret abruptly withdrew, drawing a disappointed whine from the other man.

“Yeah…” Barret stood, wiping his lips. “Ain’t you a dirty motherfucker?”

“I should remind you that you were the one with your tongue up my ass.” 

Barret grunted. “I’m about to do a lot more to that ass,” he said with another stinging blow to his cheek that left a warm, erotic throb in its wake. Reeve moaned and shuddered, trepidation creeping back in. Oh, he’d had a good idea where this was going, and he would be lying if he said a part of him didn’t want it, want it _bad_. But god, his _size_. He could hardly stretch his lips around it (his jaw ached even now), and the thought of that monster going _there_ was enough to make his belly flutter with anticipation and dread. 

“Heh,” without ceremony, Barret administered a few more spanks to warm him up, a series of open-palmed slaps that left Reeve rock hard and squirming, his fingers curling to brace himself at the far edge of the table. A final, fierce whack and Reeve cried out, crooning either a plea to stop or to proceed; he didn’t know which. He was only aware that his cock was throbbing, his ass was glowing and dammit he needed release _now_. 

Chuckling low, Barret rose, and again his gun arm pinned Reeve by the neck while his other hand reached for a nearby butter dish.

“B-Barret…surely you don’t…” 

“Hush.” 

Reeve’s eyes widened as the larger man swept thick fingers through the softened stick of butter, just inches from his face. He gasped when those slicked fingers found his crevasse and traced a swirl around his moistened bud. The tight hole twitched, fluttered and yielded as a thick, oiled finger slipped inside. 

“Guh…Barret, please…!” 

“You know you want this,” the other cut him off.

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__“Well, yes, but…” a moan interrupted the Commissioner’s protest. “I-I’m sure I’ve got something more suitable to ease the…” Again, his words were devoured by a groan as Barret’s finger brushed his inner sweet spot. Reeve melted with a shudder, and Barret purred, a deep laugh rumbling from his throat. If there was one thing Barret had learned over the years, it was that you work with what you have. Making do. It was something he’d done since Shinra took everything from him. Don’t have flour, use corn gruel. No wine? Distill your own swill. No proper lube? Butter works just fine, yessir. Besides, this moment was too precious to interrupt, what with this ex-Shinra dog all bent and hot for him. Why ruin it?_ _

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__Why, indeed?_ _

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__“Huh-uh. All I need’s right here. Seems you too impatient to be lookin’ ‘round for whatever fancy slick you got in mind, anyhow.” Finding that pleasure node again, with curled fingers Barret gently massaged toward his belly button, sending a shiver he could feel through the Director, along with the most plaintive of sobs. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought,” Barret chuckled, enjoying the Commissioner’s reactions, his gasps and groans as he used the butter to prepare him. His finger again found that sweet spot, tickled, just the right mix of pressure and force, and Barret purred in satisfaction when the other man jolted and sighed in response. Yeah…that was the acknowledgment he wanted…_ _

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__Reeve was spinning, dizzy, every part of him tingling; his throat was tight, his tender nipples pressed against the table, the erotic glow of his warmed ass spread down his thighs, the sensation transmitting to his own, hard dick imprisoned between his the table surface._ _

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__At length Barret withdrew his large finger and hoisted him further upright, tilting him so he leaned against the table, pressing his shoulders and urging him to bend forward until he had him in position: back bent, hands splayed on the table in from of him._ _

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__“You ready for this?” The question seemed genuine, almost gentle, and it managed to ease Reeve’s nerves just a little. But only just a little…_ _

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__“Barret, wait…”_ _

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__“Don’t you think we both waited long enough? Look at you, all trembling and hot. Bare assed and pining for it. I’m done waitin’, and I can feel how bad you want this.”_ _

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__“Y-yes, but…it’s…I-I think it might be too big…”_ _

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__“Aww, is the li’l Shinra kitty afraid?” There was humor in Barret’s tone. Reeve didn’t care for it, not this time._ _

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__“N-n-not so much afraid, rather…. concerned…”_ _

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__“Concerned it’s gonna hurt?” Barret circled round to meet his gaze, and there was a smug glint in Barret’s eyes, and he really didn’t like it. Blushing, Reeve nodded._ _

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__“It’s uh, been awhile.”_ _

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__“Well I can promise this: it’s _gonna_ hurt. No need to worry about that.” _ _

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__“Ah,” Reeve swallowed a bitter, nervous chuckle. “Thank you for the reassurance.”_ _

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__“If it helps, I gotta confession; I ain’t never done this. Not with no man.”_ _

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__“I’m afraid that doesn’t much help.” Somehow, the thought of an unpracticed behemoth dick ramming him up the ass wasn’t as comforting as Barret seemed to hope. Reeve sank, before another sound smack made his entire body snap to attention. “It won’t fit,” the Commissioner said matter-of-factly, even with the clear tremor evident in his voice. “I’m afraid it…”_ _

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__“Oh, I’ll _make_ it fit,” Barret moved close behind him, pressing against his back and ass, letting his erection nudge just against the smaller man’s naked hip. Goosebumps fluttered across his bare skin as Barret settled in close, spoke close to his ear. “I’ll make it fit, and before it’s all over you’ll be glad I did.” Reeve shuddered, the soothing, deep voice in his ear just about melting him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take real good care o’ ya, my pretty man.” Those words, softer than he could have thought Barret capable, wisped at the shell of his ear and made his knees wobble like jelly. “I’ll be real gentle. “Oh, you gonna feel it. But you just leave it to me. You just relax an’ Papa Barret’ll take real good care o’ ya. Make you feel real good all over.” _ _

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__Reeve would have laughed, had his quivering voice allowed it. “Papa? So, roleplay it is, then?” His legs could hardly support him, and probably wouldn’t have, had the former Avalanche leader not been supporting him from behind. _God…__ _

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__“I’ll play any role you want, cat.” Barret’s towering, clothed body pressed against his bare back. That cannon-arm came to rest at his collarbone, pinning him close, and that single strong hand ran down his shoulder and round to his chest, a pinch to his nipple—all this and the way Barret was crooning in his ear made Reeve shiver from head to toe, and before long he was putty in those massive arms._ _

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__“Well…I suppose. So long as you’re gentle. ‘Papa’.” Reeve half-joked, his cock at full attention as he leaned back into strong arms. One stone-solid hand slid down his flank, sending a chill fluttering down his frame._ _

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__“Heh,” Barret chuckled. “That’s the way. I’m gonna give you one helluva ride. You might be beggin’ me to stop, or beggin for more. But we’re ridin’ this all the way to the end of the line, kitty.” Reeve did laugh then, a nervous sound as Barret’s human hand curled around his arm and manipulated his body, urging him to lean down and bend lower, presenting his naked bottom. Surrender. It was total surrender Barret sought, and Reeve played along, complying with a tight and anxious flutter in his belly._ _

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For a moment nothing happened, and with a glance behind he saw Barret greasing himself up—with butter, no less--giving Reeve one last, good look at his unsettling size. 

_Gulp..._

He turned again, sought something to focus on other than what was about to follow. When Barret pressed against him he drew a shaking breath, held it in and braced himself on the table ledge. A strong hand gripped his naked hip and Reeve tensed. 

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__“You’re gonna wanna relax,” Barret advised._ _

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__“Easier said than done, you know.” As Barret readied himself, Reeve closed his eyes and willed his mind into meditation mode. The Planet. Deepground. No, that wouldn’t work. _Think relaxing thoughts, Reeve…relaxing…_ The City of the Ancients. A waterfall, the calming bridges and stairs. The soothing windmills and cool, peaceful desert nights in Cosmo Canyon. An evening breeze in Kalm, just outside. Even here, in the very kitchen in which they stood, there was one of his mother’s cup towels, hanging on a hook. Flower-patterned and pink, a memento he kept like a security blanket, something to which man pushing forty would surely be mocked for clinging. _ _

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__Soon reality gave him another jolt as Barret moved in closer and gripped his hip more tightly, and he started when he felt that massive sex slide between his cheeks. The gun-hand moved to press him forward, urging him to bend further. He complied, legs reflexively parting wider, spreading open for Barret. The heat of the larger man’s blunt, slick cockhead nudged and prodded at the reluctant opening between his buttocks, and Reeve felt his entire body tense._ _

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__“Push out,” Barrett softly directed._ _

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__“I can’t…” Reeve groaned._ _

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__“You can do it, baby,” the larger man soothed, reaching around with his hand to gently stroke the other’s semi-hard length. “Come on, now. Open up for me.” Swallowing a deep breath, Reeve closed his eyes and obeyed, squeezing his sphincter muscles outward._ _

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__A split second later, he saw stars._ _

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__In that moment Barret had found his opportunity; holding Reeve’s hip in place, he thrust forward and the head of his cock, thick and hot, breached the small, guarded ring.__

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__“ _Nah-aaahhh!_ ” came the architect’s grunt and gasp, barely registering in Barret’s thoughts, far too occupied on the sensation of that tight bud opening just enough to let the tip wedge inside. And damn, was he _tight!_ Tight, warm, squeezing him like a damned fist. He’d known the Commissioner would be tight as a drum with the constant stress of leadership. But sweet mother of Gaia, he felt better than Barret had imagined._ _

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__Somewhere in his pleasure-fogged brain he heard his partner’s cry of pain, and something protective in him compelled him to lean down, pressing his chest to Reeve’s back. Both as a reassuring gesture (and to prevent his lover from squirming away), he brought his cannon arm round the trembling man’s chest. His human hand slid round front and downward to find Reeve’s flagging cock. Gently, slowly he stroked, working up and down, coaxing him hard again._ _

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__“Mmm, you feel so good. Come on, kitty, let me in.” Reeve gasped, his eyes squeezed tight from the shock of pain that thrummed out from his sphincter. He was shaking, he realized, and weak. His knees buckled, and once more he was glad to have Barrett supporting him. Teeth clenched tight, he hissed as another fraction of Barrett slid past his defenses, stretching him. He groaned, his insides opening further, struggling to adjust and accept more of that persistent cock demanding access. His asshole throbbed and contracted, reluctant to welcoming Barret’s entire length inside, and that pain blended with pleasure from the hand so gently manipulating his own hardening sex._ _

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__“You can take it, baby…” Barret crooned, close to his ear. Reeve sighed, his limbs somehow at once tense and wobbly. He didn’t know how far Barret was inside him and wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he did know at this moment was it _hurt_ , and reflexively he was compelled to pull away, to shrink from the massive former Avalanche leader currently in the process of splitting him up the middle. _ _

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__Barret hugged him close, tight, husking in his ear. “Come on, now. One more push and you got it.”_ _

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__“Ahh, I…I’m not sure if I can…”_ _

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__“The hell you can’t,” Barret growled, a low purr that rattled against his back. Sighing, Reeve surrendered, falling nearly limp, Barret’s gun-arm now almost fully supporting him. The large hand of his partner continued to frisk and fondle him, manipulating his sex with intermittent gentle and deeper strokes. Reeve fell practically weightless, his head rolling backward to rest against Barret’s powerful chest. Barret gave a little nudge, demanding deeper access._ _

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__“G-God…” Reeve grunted between gritted teeth, hands leaving the desk in front of him so he could reach up and behind him to cling to Barret’s shoulders and brace himself. By the Ancients, it felt like he was sitting on a damn tree trunk, and the throb in his ass pulsed and radiated through his quivering limbs._ _

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__“Ughh…p- _please_ …” he gasped, unclear what he wanted, but his hands blindly sought broad shoulders and his cock had found life again, even as he shivered from pain._ _

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__“Come on, now,” Barret murmured, close to his ear. “Let Papa in, kitty. Push that asshole out for me.” His strong hand squeezed Reeve’s cock just right. His large callused thumb ran along the underside, before he resumed stroking with long, twisting motions, drawing a long moan from the Commissioner. “That’s it, baby,” Barret encouraged. “Gimme one more push….” Reeve swallowed and sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. Moaning, he obeyed, bearing down. His sphincter further yielded, and a strong thrust propelled Barret’s thick cock deeper inside, stretching, opening him._ _

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__Reeve’s eyes and mouth popped wide as Barret’s human hand left his cock and wrapped around his waist, holding him in place while Barret filled him completely, seating himself balls-deep in his ass. Reeve cried out, stiffening, trembling as he clung to the bear of a man behind him._ _

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__“That’s all of it,” Barret soothed against his ear. “You got it. You got it all, babe.”_ _

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__Reeve’s breath caught and he stood frozen, jaw locked in pain._ _

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__“Breathe,” Barret soothed, receiving a high whimper in reply._ _

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__“ _Ahhhh_ …” Reeve inarticulately responded. “Barret…it…” _ _

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__“Shhhh,” the larger man shushed him, sliding a hand back to Reeve’s groin and resuming his work on the man’s once more softening cock. “C’mon, now. Breathe. Breathe, baby.” Reeve managed to exhale with a staggering sigh. Between the pain and the hand gently stroking him he was sweating, quivering. Barret stopped himself for a moment, holding completely still so he wouldn’t come right then and there. So tight. Reeve’s innards clenched him like a vacuum hose, his arms flung behind and clinging to his shoulders for dear life. He could feel the man shaking, feel his heart pulsing, and Barret set his focus to pleasuring him in hopes of loosening him up, easing his pain. Gently he worked Reeve’s hesitant cock, murmuring encouragement in his ear._ _

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__“Damn you feel good, split wide on my dick. Even better than a woman. How ‘bout that?”_ _

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__“Dare I assume you’ve found a new preference?” Reeve ventured, strained._ _

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__“Heh. That’s crossing a line, smartass!” Barret paused in his ministrations to deliver another open-palmed smack to the Director’s ass._ _

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__“I suspected as much,” Reeve managed to grunt, and Barret returned his hand to the smaller man’s dick. Another smack like that would clench him up and the last thing Barret wanted to do was come too fast. Just give him time to adjust…_ _

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__Trying not to think about his own pleasure and the heat surrounding his length, he focused instead on working Reeve’s own sex, pulling moans out of him with every stroke. Still panting, Reeve clung to the man behind him, his arms growing numb and achy. But the more Barret manipulated his now-stiff member, the more the pain began to dull, ease and dissolve altogether, until he was left with nothing but the erotic fullness of being split up the middle. And gradually, Barret felt his partner’s muscles begin to relax on his cock. The other man’s tension faded, and Reeve melted against him. Before long, the Commissioner had begun thrusting his hips into the massive pumping hand, assisting._ _

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__“There you go. Good. That’s the way, kitty.” Barret’s human hand slid over and took one of Reeve’s, bringing it down to join his own. For a moment they worked together, both stroking Reeve’s dick in tandem, but once the engineer had set a rhythm of his own, Barret withdrew his assistance and silently encouraged him to take over._ _

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__And so he did. Reeve’s other arm let go of Barret’s shoulder and went to the table to brace himself so Barret could focus on the best part: delivering a good, hard buttfucking._ _

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__Barret’s human arm curled around his chest and he began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, to the heightened sounds of Reeve’s moans. Reeve sighed, bending further, one palm bracing him and the other furiously fisting his own cock. “Yeah, that’s right. Bend over for me. I’m gonna bust that pretty ass wide open.” Reeve’s legs spread wider in response, and Barret’s pace quickened, his arm hugging the director into him as his increasingly rough thrusts spanked and rattled his partner._ _

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__The architect’s body jostled with each jabbing penetration, each fluttering thrill like a tiny death in his belly. Reeve bit his lip, hoping in vain to stifle the groans of erotic pain and lustful need that spilled from his lips, propelled from deep in his diaphragm with every pounding stroke. Before long he was rocking back, meeting the slap of Barret’s hips to his ass in tandem. Barret’s strokes gained momentum and friction, harder, rougher, knocking gasps and moans from the engineer’s lungs._ _

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__“Mmmm,” Barret husked, breathless. “Damn, you’re one hot fuck. We should do this more often.”_ _

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“Uhnn…well…I suppose I could… _God!_....ugh…squeeze you in again, at some point…” Barret snickered and roughly shoved him down, repositioning his partner so he was bent lower, his chest and face pressed against the table. Reeve’s arm flew out to grasp the table’s far ledge for leverage, the other furiously stroking his own, painfully hard dick. And Barret doubled his efforts, gripping his partner by a single hip with his functional hand, holding him in place with that gun arm while he relentlessly and repeatedly skewered him. Reeve’s moans heightened, his hand clawing at the edge of the table. His hips sought to sway into Barret’s thrusts, only his position left him no choice; held down, forced to accept Barret at the other man’s force and pace, and soon he was singing for it. 

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__The sound was better than music to Barret._ _

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__“Mmm, damn. So, this is what happens when the Commissioner lets his guard down,” Barret husked, panting, a stream of sweat cutting a path down his cheek._ _

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__“Ahhh…not always…” Reeve managed between strokes. “Muhhh...my meetings don’t typically find me… _ooohh_ …in this p-position.”_ _

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__Barret laughed, a gravelly and devious ripple. “S’pose it could be good blackmail, then. Nice li’l story ‘bout the WRO’s head honcho bent over and getting his ass reamed out by a real man, heh.” Barret panted, pistoning at a steady pace._ _

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__“Clever,” Reeve quipped. “But there’s only one... _aaahh_ …flaw…in your plan. You’re forgetting that I own all the security cameras.” _ _

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__Barret smiled, bitterly. He was right, and chances were, he had one of those damn cats at work this very moment, documenting everything they did, every word they said. But he was also getting a little too cocky for Barret’s liking._ _

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__“Well in that case, let’s give ‘em a real show,” Barret delivered a deep, punishing stroke. Reeve’s laugh became a grunt and a moan, followed by a yelp at a sharp thrust up his innards._ _

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_“Shit!”_ Reeve’s aching bowels shifted and stretched to accommodate the massive intruder. His belly cramped in protest, the violent assault rattling his prostate. His loins sang. A mortifying moan escaped him as pain— _delicious_ pain—engulfed him and reduced him to a groaning, shivering mess.

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Inwardly Barret snickered.

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_Thought that’d shut ‘im up._ He had silenced Reeve’s capacity for words, sure, though not so much the whimpers that crooned from his flushed lips as his body, bent in submission, rocked forward with gut-pummeling force. Another deep, focused thrust forced a long, shameless groan from the Commissioner. 

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__“Seems you enjoying this,” Barret admonished, and through his moaning Reeve managed to chuckle._ _

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__“Well, uhh…this is certainly unexpected. And an unusual way to simply request some assistance, gahh, on your part. One might think… _oohh_...you had a plan when you arrived. H-how long have you had eyes for me, Barret? _Ahhh..._ ” Again, Barret laughed at his arrogance, though it seemed the Director needed a reminder of who was in charge here. _ _

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__“Don’t play innocent, kitty,” Barret chided, with a smart swat to his ass. “You’ve had a stiff one since I grabbed you.”_ _

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__“Point taken." Barret’s pounding gathered steam, and Reeve’s moans grew desperate in time with deep, deliberate strokes, the rhythmic slap slap slap of massive hips spanking his ass and thighs, reddening his cheeks. The rhythm was almost hypnotic. With a swat to his ass, Barrett grabbed a fistful of Reeve’s hair and pulled him upright. Hooking the crook of his gun arm under one of his lover’s knees and hiking his leg high, he used his hair and crook of his knee as leverage so he could commence thrusting roughly upward, the weight of Reeve’s body aiding him in the carnal assault. His partner’s moans keened higher in acknowledgment. It wasn’t long before Barret noticed Reeve’s hand had left his own cock and returned to the table for balance._ _

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__“Who told you to stop, kitty?” A smart whap stung a reddened cheek. With a clench and a yelp, Reeve whimpered an apology and resumed his efforts, his fist returning to its task as Barret resumed his own, fucking upward with gut-punishing strokes._ _

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__Barret’s thoughts had grown fuzzy, dreamlike in his drunken haze, until all he could hear was the sound of skin slapping skin and Reeve’s needful whimpers. God, that sound—so hot, so raw and impassioned, the music of helpless pleasure laced with pain, and Barret delivered a slow, hard and deliberate thrust, punching upward and drawing a desperate and mortifying wail from his lover._ _

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__“Yeah, lemme hear that,” Barret managed, panting as he established a slower, more forceful pace that propelled further, delicious moans from his lover. Reeve had practically melted against him once more, leaning back into Barret’s chest while the larger man held him spread and pounded him silly. “There you go, kitty. You gonna feel this into next week,” Barret husked, through labored breaths. Reeve could only groan in response, his eyes lidding helplessly, aware of nothing save the cock fucking him ragged. A few more deep penetrations and the engineer was practically howling._ _

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__Abruptly Barret pulled out, eliciting a mewl of complaint as he whirled the other man around with dizzying speed. Glazed, drunken eyes sought Barret’s, and in that moment the larger man shoved him to lie across the table on his back. Hooking the crooks of his knees under his elbows Barret hiked his legs high, bent him double and penetrated his sore channel to the hilt in a single, rough thrust._ _

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__Reeve arched off the table, wincing._ _

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__“Ohhh! Fuck… _fuck!"_ Barret frequently swore, but somehow hearing it from Reeve’s mouth made his cock twitch and throb._ _

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__There was no taking it slow this time. No, now it was all sex: rough, pounding sex. A steady pace resumed, massive hips thrusting hard and fast with jarring strokes. For a moment Reeve lost his voice, his hand once more finding his own dick between them as the breath was pounded from his lungs._ _

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__“Told you you’d feel it,” Barret rasped, heavy and labored above him. “You like that, kitty?”_ _

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__“Ohh… _shit_ …” _ _

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__“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” the larger man chuckled. Reeve only moaned, his head falling back against the table, baring his throat. “Mmm-hmm. That’s what I thought.” Hooking his lover’s legs over his shoulders, Barret curled his fist around Reeve’s neck, the size discrepancy sparking a thrill of power straight to his cock. “You’re gonna be limpin’ when we’re through,” he panted, with a light squeeze of his fingers—just enough to constrict his airway ever-so-slightly as he pounded him silly. He held him there, just long enough before the man beneath him went limp in acceptance and glazy-eyed submission. Barret released his grip but kept his hand round his throat as a reminder. Drunken eyes met, and Barret’s hulking form doubled its efforts, chasing release to the tune of Reeve’s helpless moans and mewls._ _

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__“Damn you sound good, taking my dick. Talk to me, kitty,” Barret huffed, his hand dropping from throat to shoulder for leverage._ _

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__“Ahh…Barret…uhnnn…” the normally articulate Commissioner managed, and Barret laughed._ _

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__“Well, well. Cat got your tongue? You can do better than that. C’mon, kitty. How’s it feel, baby? Hurtin’ ya good?”_ _

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__“Ahnn…yesss….” Reeve groaned. “S-so good…please…”_ _

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__“Yeah, beg for it,” the larger man delivered a rocking stroke. “Lemme hear you. Please what?”_ _

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__“Gahh…h-harder…pleeease…f-fuck me…harder…”_ _

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__“You got it. Gonna ram you into next week. That what you want?”_ _

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__“God… _yes!_ ” Reeve breathlessly cried, his voice melting into a string of incoherent babbling. His asshole felt raw, sore, his limbs ached, his head spun, and still, through the fog he wondered how he’d managed to find himself on his back, his legs in the air with Barret Wallace pounding the shit out of him. He would hurt tomorrow, no doubt, once the numb bliss of drunkenness passed. _ _

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__“You gonna come for me, baby?” Barret’s voice came to him like a spear of sound amid a roiling sea of sensation and ether. He was only vaguely aware of the table precariously rocking on its legs beneath his back. His hand was stroking his sex almost mechanically now, precum streaming down his furiously pumping fist. “Let’s hear it,” Barret puffed and snorted above him, sweat dripping down onto his chest from the hulking figure topping him. “Papa wants to hear you lose it. Give it up. Let it go, baby.”_ _

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__Hearing Barret’s permission was like flipping a switch; everything tightened to a coil. His belly crunched almost painfully. His toes curled into knots until his feet cramped, and then all coalesced into a kaleidoscope of blended pain and bliss that burst outward, and suddenly he was bucking and howling, his sticky release erupting from his pulsing cock and oozing over his hand._ _

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__Barret could feel it when the tight channel wildly clenched and spasmed, squeezing his pistoning cock. His thrusts grew erratic, more frantic, until with a final, ferocious lunge he buried himself deep and let loose a wild bellow, releasing a flood of seed deep inside his lover’s shivering bowels._ _

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__At length Barret collapsed, exhausted. How long he lay there, half blacked-out and panting he didn’t know, but he became aware of the smaller man beneath him, and realized he probably couldn’t breathe with Barret’s weight on him, his legs still stretched over his shoulders. The drunken haze began to clear, and next came the awkward moment as both men entered the phase of trying to process what had happened. And neither knew how the hell to address it._ _

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__Barret lifted himself from Reeve, releasing the other from the weight of his body. The Commissioner winced as his legs straightened. Gently Barret lowered them to dangle over the table’s edge. Reeve looked busted, fucked out, exhausted. Drunkenness still swam in his eyes, though the blur of the alcohol was fading enough that Barret, now surveying the damage, experienced a familiar twitch of guilt._ _

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__“Uh…guess I got a little carried away.” He shuffled, scratched his head. “Don’t know what came over me.” He leaned down, his hulking form hovering briefly above the engineer as he effortlessly lifted him from the table. “Uh, your bedroom…?"_ _

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__“Down the hall, to the right,” Reeve lazily chuckled. And Barret carried him, gentle as a father would a child down the hallway, those huge arms tender and shielding._ _

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__“Sorry. I’m sorry. I was kinda rough, I didn’t mean….” This time it was Reeve who shushed him with a fingertip as the other carefully laid him down on the soft bed. He chuckled, worn out but drunkenly satisfied, endorphins still swimming in his hazed mind in the afterglow of mindblowing orgasm._ _

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__“Nothing to apologize for. In fact, I should be thanking you: for the best sex—and the best release I’ve ever had in my life. My god…”_ _

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__“Really?” Barret blinked, surprised. “Well how ‘bout that…” Reeve chuckled again. Such a contradiction was Barret. Here was a man who seemed so rough and dangerous, intimidating. But hidden beneath the scars and the gruff manner he was so like a child, really._ _

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__Barret surveyed him a little longer, hazel eyes softened by whiskey inspecting his naked form as if for damage._ _

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__“Hmmp. Made a mess, though. Be right back.” Barret reemerged a minute later with a damp washcloth, scrubbing up the come that had pooled between them, on Reeve’s stomach, sticky on Barret’s chest. Once done, he set the cloth on an end table and considered him more carefully, genuine curiosity and concern teeming in his gaze._ _

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__“You sure I didn’t hurt you none?”_ _

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__“No,” Reeve assured. “Well…not in any way I didn’t enjoy.”_ _

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__“You sure were hollarin, though."_ _

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__“And it’s been ages since anyone was able to make me,” Reeve said with a smirk. Sure, he would have to explain to the WRO recruits and supervisors why he was walking so strangely, but that was a small price to pay for the experience. Truly, it was as if weeks and weeks of stress had melted away._ _

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__“Still. I let it get outta hand. It’s the whiskey. Never thought you and I would…” Barret laughed, awkward. “Damn.”_ _

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__“No feelings of regret, I hope?” Reeve was looking at him from the pillow, his brown eyes soft, gentle, glazed over and handsome as all hell._ _

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__“Hell no. Not unless you ain’t.”_ _

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__“Then you have nothing to fear, my friend. In fact, you’re welcome to join me.” Barret hesitated only a moment before he kicked off his boots and stretched out beside the smaller man._ _

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__“Now…about that assistance you requested…” Reeve began at length. “You still hesitant?”_ _

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__Barret thought for only a moment, then acquiesced with a sigh._ _

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__“Naw. That is…I guess if you trust him, then I oughta trust you. You ain’t let us down yet. All the damn stunts you pulled, you never let us down.” Barret leaned on one arm, meeting the Commissioner’s gaze._ _

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__“And I won’t,” Reeve warmly returned. “You have my word. I suppose you’d rather keep this little tryst between ourselves, as well?”_ _

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__Barret’s expression changed for a moment, as if he’d never even considered that possibility._ _

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__“Uh…yeah. I’d rather—at least for now.”_ _

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__“That makes two of us,” Reeve chuckled. “The secret’s safe with me.”_ _

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__“Hmm,” Barret nodded, offering a warm and trusting smile of his own._ _

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__“In the meantime, feel free to conduct further drilling right here, if you wish,” the engineer suggested, a naughty glint in his eye._ _

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__For the first time in ages, Barret Wallace laughed his ass off._ _

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End file.
